


Brightlights and Cityscapes

by orphan_account



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M, Kink Meme, Little Castle Babies, kinkofthecastle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-04-15 00:08:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4585443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's thirty this year – God, that snuck up on her – and it's silly to even think it, but she swears she hears the ticking of her biological clock, despite her youth. It's not loud, not overpowering, but it's in the background, a soft tick, tick, tick, and it's getting louder, demanding more of her attention with each passing year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This does deviate from the original prompt a little.  
> Winter Kink Meme Prompt: Pairing castle/Beckett. Pre-couple season 3/4  
> Set season 4 or 5. Caskett aren't a couple, but Beckett wants a baby. Beckett asks Castle to be the sperm donor, and he agrees on the condition that they do it the old fashion way. Beckett tries to make it quick, but Castle makes her enjoy it.

** 2009 **

**_(Little Girl Lost_ ** **Post-Ep _)_**

* * *

 

Beckett watches Sorenson walk away, the warmth of his hand lingering on her shoulder. _Think about it_. And she knows she will; she'll wonder about all the what ifs and question her decisions – she'll have moments of weakness where she almost breaks, and calls him.

But she won't break. And she won't call him.

Just like last time.

"Nice guy."

She hesitates, gives herself a moment to compose herself, to push the whirlwind of emotions down, and be able to face Castle. Sucking in a breath, she turns, hoping her face, her voice, mask the lingering pain.

"I can see how it wouldn't work, though."

"Really?" she says, her tone dry.

"Sure."

"Huh."

"Handsome, square-jawed, by-the-book."

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. "And that's a bad thing?" The smile tugs at her lips. Castle, it seems, has a unique ability to both irritate her and make her feel better. At the same time.

"Yeah," Castle confirms. "He's like the male you. Ying needs Yang, not another Ying. Ying-Yang is harmony, but Ying-Ying is... a name for a panda."

Pursing her lips while she listens to him, she can't help but wonder if he considers himself the Yang. Instead of calling him on it, she asks, "Any more wisdom, Obi-Wan?"

"Nope. That's it for today. What say we celebrate by going out for a drink?"

He's on his feet now, staring at her with hope in his eyes, waiting. She cocks her head, considers him, considers the alternative of just going home to an empty apartment, and then nods. "Oh what the hell, why not."

"Really?" he asks, surprised.

"Lead the way before I change my mind."

As he begins walking towards the elevator, she falls into step beside him, a small smile playing on her lips. She'll miss Sorenson; having him back had reminded her of what they'd once had – and reminds her why they had never worked, and never will. Castle's _wisdom_ aside, she and Sorenson weren't good for one another, she knows this. Letting him walk away had been the only right choice, but she will still miss him. Like she had the last time he had walked out of her life. When they'd been together, she'd seen a future with him. She'd seen a wedding day, a shared home, a family. She thinks about what could have been, and it tugs at her heart, these images she's recreating. She wants it. More than she cares to admit. And this case, the Candela's, working with Sorenson once more, it had only brought it all to the surface again. It's not even the marriage part she aches for – that's not so important to her. She wants to be a mom, wants to raise a child, can picture herself pregnant, knows she would love every second, and be amazing at it.

She's thirty this year – _God, that snuck up on her_ – and it's silly to even think it, but she swears she hears the ticking of her biological clock, despite her youth. It's not loud, not overpowering, but it's in the background, a soft _tick, tick, tick_ , and it's getting louder, demanding more of her attention with each passing year.

Yes. Getting drunk tonight sounds like a fabulous idea…

* * *

 

…So of course the bar is a _dive._

She follows Castle inside, and the air is thick and suffocating around her, rife with the smell of stale beer and body odor. Scrunching up her nose, she throws him a questioning glare.

"You're kidding, right?" she asks, the darkened interior hiding God knows what. The soles of her shoes stick to the floor with each step, and she refuses to look down, refuses to touch anything. She folds her arms across her chest, and waits for his explanation.

"Okay, I know it's rustic but—"

"Rustic?" she scoffs.

"And yes, it's possible it violates a health code or two—"

"Or a hundred," she mutters.

"But…" He raises an eyebrow and grins. "Just follow me."

He throws a wave to the kid tending the bar, and then leads her to a door at the back. She follows him down a hallway, to an elevator, her curiosity a little piqued. She steps into the elevator, and he punches the button for the top floor. She waits for an explanation, but he gives nothing away, just hums some random tune she can't quite place while the rickety box ascends. It stops with a jolt, the doors open, and he ushers her out into another corridor. He's uncharacteristically quiet, the humming has ceased, and it unnerves her.

"Castle?"

"Just, hang on," he says, and then opens the door to the roof, and gestures her through. She steps out onto the rooftop, the cool air a welcome break after the airless bar and the stuffy elevator. She spies a bucket on a small table near the ledge of the roof, and her curiosity moves her legs over to it. Peering down into the bucket, she finds it full of ice and beer, and it makes her smile, pleased the drinking part will still be happening. God, she needs it. Just a buzz, enough to blur the day, and turn the thoughts off for at least an hour or two.

"I called ahead," he tells her.

"But why here?"

He leads her to the railing, and spreads his arms wide. "Because this," he tells her, "is the best view in the city."

Leaning into the railing at the edge of the building, so high up she knows she'll be fighting vertigo if she drops her gaze, she looks out into the city, and takes it in: the sprawl of Manhattan spreading out before her, the skyscrapers like Christmas trees adorned with fairy-lights. Daring to look down, through the spaces where streets squeeze between buildings, the blur of car lights, the flickering of street lamps and the glow of neons, all come together – and she's aware of how rare it is for her to just take a minute and absorb this city. She's so used to it, never thinks about it, and seeing it all now, the lights contrasting against the dark sky, it almost seems foreign to her. And it's spectacular. There's life everywhere, in the movement of vehicles, lights in buildings flicking on and off on different floors as people enter and exit rooms, even the starless sky's inky blackness is dotted with lights as planes pass by high above. She's seeing the city again for the first time from this vantage point that offers a new perspective. It shows her what she is part of, what she would have given up, and it takes her breath away.

"Wow."

"Told ya."

Her eyes gaze out into the endless lights, the lives, the stories behind each glow, something she mightn't have given a second thought to before.

It's only been a few months and already Castle is getting to her, he's inside her head, making her see things differently.

"But why bring me here?"

He doesn't answer immediately, and she dares a glance at him, only to find his own eyes fixed on the city lights. "Just a reminder of what you have here."

"I wasn't planning on leaving," she tells him, her voice low now, like she needs to whisper, like speaking too loud will extinguish the lights and tamper down the beauty. There's truth in her words. She wasn't planning on leaving – this time. But once, _before_ , she had pondered it, albeit briefly, and allowed herself to imagine a different life.

"I didn't think you were," he lies. "This view needed to be shared."

"Thank you," she murmurs.

"Beer?" he asks.

She smiles, turns to him, and finds him watching her now, his eyes torn from the city, studying her instead. "Please."

He's swift with a bottle opener, and hands her the drink. His own is uncapped, he clinks it to hers, and they down the alcohol, both swallowing a generous amount before turning their eyes back to the view before them.

"I once considered a life with him."

"Sorenson?"

His question is unnecessary, but were she in his shoes she's not sure she would have had a different response. "Mmmmm," she hums around the top of the bottle, the air whistling over the glass.

"As in marriage?"

"Marriage," she confirms. "Kids, the works."

"Wow."

"Yeah," she agrees.

"What happened?"

Shrugging, all she can say is the truth. "It would never have worked out."

"Ah."

"Yes." She sighs, and takes a long pull from the bottle, before adding, "Better to find out before committing though."

He lets out a mirthless laugh. "Lucky for some."

She turns to him. "But you don't regret it, your first marriage, I mean. You wouldn't have Alexis."

"I don't regret Alexis."

"Surely there were good times."

"All involved my daughter." He lets out his own sigh. "The biggest mistake we made together was getting married." He turns to her, tilts his head. "You don't really strike me as someone who needs to be married."

"I wouldn't be adverse," she replies.

"And kids?"

She wants to shrug, to be flippant in her answer, but the intimacy of the moment, of the two of them on this rooftop, looking out over the wonderful city she calls home, force her to continue opening up. "I want one. Maybe two. Soon."

He nods, thoughtful. "You'll find the right guy. It wasn't Sorenson, but he's out there."

"You sound awfully sure."

"Because I am." He gives her a light nudge with his elbow. "You've got plenty of time."

She huffs out a breath. "I feel like it's running out."

"What's your timeframe?"

"Hmm?" she asks.

"Is this a five-year plan, or…?"

"Yeah," she agrees. "Five, or three. At least to be a mom."

"You weren't kidding about soon." He gives her a lop-sided smile. "Well," he begins, the words coming out a bit more restrained, and his hesitancy makes her suspicious. "How about, three years from now, if neither of us are otherwise taken—"

"Castle," she warns. "I'm not sure I like where this is headed.

"Just hear me out," he tells her. "No expectations, just the offer that, if three years from now you still feel the way you do today, I would be willing to help out."

She raises an eyebrow.

"Because as your _friend_ , I would want you to be happy. And if that was something that might make you happy, then I would be willing to offer… services."

"Services?" she almost chokes on her drink.

He nods, the smile playing on his lips smug now. "Services."

"Okay then." She turns back to the city, mortified.

"Okay."

"I'm not saying I will take you up on it," she begins, trying to keep her voice even, "but I appreciate the offer for… services." She swallows the last of the beer in one go, and reaches for another. If she's drunk, the awkwardness might disappear.

"As long as we're both single it will remain open."

"So how'd you find this place?" she asks, desperate to change the subject.

"Meredith cheated on me, I considered packing up my life, Alexis, and starting over. I wandered into the bar, desperate to at least get drunk for a few hours while I tried to make sense of what had happened. Chuck, the owner, listened to my story, and sent me up here promising that after five minutes I would never want to leave this city again. He was right." He gives her a soft smile. "I asked how I could thank him for sending me up here. He said one day I would pass this view on to someone who needed it. Pay it forward, he said. Let it remind someone else just what they have here."

"How many have you passed it on to now?"

"Just one," he replies, eyes locked on the twinkling of lights.

Her heart expands in her chest, and his words fill her with warmth. "Thank you."

"I think you needed it. And," he adds, his voice lower, softer, "when you need the other thing—"

"As much as I appreciate the offer, we need to stop talking about you… I'm not going to—we're not going to… ever…" She purses her lips, hoping that somewhere in that broken sentence were enough of the right words.

He just nods, drinks his beer, stands at her side, and absorbs the view. She tries, but all she can focus on now is the fact Richard Castle just offered to father her child.

And she doesn't completely hate the idea.

She's pretty sure she stepped off that elevator and into the Twilight Zone.

Needing space, she steps away, places the still-full beer bottle back into the bucket and gives him a curt nod. "I should go," she begins, her voice faltering. "Thanks for the drink, and the view…" _and the offer_ , she silently adds.

"I'll walk you to the—"

"No," she says, harsher than she'd intended. "I'm fine." Her voice softens as she adds, "Thank you for the view. Goodnight, Castle."

The flash of hurt in his eyes disappears before she can be sure she even saw it, and he gives a slight nod of his head. "Until tomorrow, Detective."

She turns, and closes the gap between her and the rooftop door with long strides. She needs to get out of the Twilight Zone and back to reality. She needs to forget about his offer, leave it on this rooftop, and go back to real life.

She steps into the building, into the elevator, leaves his words behind her, and tries to forget.

* * *

 

But she never forgets.

His words, the offer, linger in the back of her mind.

Time passes, the ticking grows louder, feelings for Castle develop, and three years to the day she finds herself knocking on his door, with one question dancing on the tip of her tongue.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

**2012**

**(AU _47 seconds)_**

* * *

 

 

He’s staring out the small pane of glass, his eyes locked on the figures passing by, some with determination etched into their weary faces, some with tear-stained cheeks and down-cast eyes. She allows a moment of silence as she approaches him, and when she finally speaks she knows it’s a hopeless question, but the words escape anyway.

“You good?”

 

She’s not. There’s no possible way he is.

 

He turns at the sound of her voice, and lies. “Yeah.”

 

She sees it in his eyes, the pain, the frustration, the disbelief over how random some death can be.

 

“Yeah, just this case, you know, it kinda gets to ya.”

 

She knows.

 

“How’d it go with the rest of the families?”

 

The questions, the answers, the same sadness and loss in red-rimmed eyes. Yes, she knows how this case is affecting all involved. Her gaze falters, breaks from his, and she turns away, finding a solid, stable structure to rest on as she breaks Castle’s heart further with all she learned about the victims. One, the first kid in the family to go to college, the other, a mother, with two children left behind.

She meets his eyes, but it’s fleeting, scared if she holds his gaze too long her emotions will get the better of her, and she’ll break.

She can’t break; she won’t.

 

“So their deaths were random. You know, most of our victims they...they die for a reason. You know, there's a logic behind it. It's a twisted logic at times, but...at least it makes some kind of sense.”

 

“Yeah, but in this case, these people were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She speaks to his back, his eyes focused out the window again, locked on the activity they’ve escaped from, just for a little while, just long enough to take a breath. It’s necessary.

 

“And their future and all their plans, everything is just gone in a flash.”

 

Their eyes meet again, and she wonders if his thoughts match hers.

She had been shot, had almost died, and three months spent in her father’s cabin had given her a lot of time to think. Too much. She had managed to squash everything down, come back to work, and move on with her life. But something has been nagging at her, and this case, Castle’s words, have just brought it all to the surface again.

 

“It makes you think about all those things in your own life that you don't want to put off anymore.”

 

“Such as?” he asks, taking a small step closer to her.

 

“Raising a family…” She trails off.

 

Awareness flashes in his eyes. “It’s been three years,” he says, each word chosen with care. “The offer is still open.”

 

“I--” She shakes her head. The offer isn’t what it had once been. It may have been made as friends, but the years have changed their relationship. The years have made it more complicated, added layers to it, until she can barely comprehend the simplicity in that original rooftop pact.

 

Pact? Had she even agreed to it? She can't remember now. Castle remembers everything, but she dares not ask.

 

“We can talk,” he tells her.

 

“It’ll pass,” she says, declining his offer. “I’m fine.”

 

“You’re not--”

 

“Yo. Captain's gathering the troops,” Espo announces, interrupting them.

 

Kate sighs and runs a hand through her hair. She meets Castle’s eyes, and gives him a rueful smile. “Let’s do this.”

 

“The baby, or…?  
  
“Head in the game, Castle,” she admonishes. “We’ve got a bomber to find.”

 

She turns and leaves him, her mind swirling with possibilities but too damn scared to push forward. Because nothing is as it had once been. Everything is so damn complicated now.

 

* * *

 

 

Later - how much later she doesn’t even know anymore, she’s too exhausted to count the hours - she sees him with Alexis, coaxing his daughter away from the morgue, from the charred remains, from death. He is a father in that moment, protective, reassuring. Her heart’s already aching, but to see that, it almost feels like it wants to burst in her chest. He’s such a good father. He would be again. She wants to shake the thoughts loose, expel them from her head because no, that isn’t what she wants from him. She just needs a donor, nothing more. Oh, but that was what she considered for a moment three years ago. She can’t deny her feelings for him, can’t deny that should she ever use his services he would be in her life for good - and she’d rather quite like that. Whatever she may have almost agreed to three years ago, he’s too entwined in her life now.

 

* * *

 

Something _changes_.

 

Case solved, heart-breaking day over - although the pain still lingers - the thread of him woven within her feels a little frayed.

He’s different.

 

All she wants to do is go out, drink, forget. But Castle’s deserted her, everyone has somewhere they need to be, someone they need to be with. And she realizes her someone has walked away and left her behind.

The rope binding them begins to unravel, and she doesn’t know why.

So she leaves, alone, and navigates a city still reeling from the day’s events. She slips into her dark apartment, but all she finds is a home filled with everything but what she’s been craving lately.

 

It’s weighing her heart down tonight. It’s been a strange year, her shooting, explosions in banks, tigers… now this. A new year has already started, winter is coming to an end, and she wants…  she wants…

_She wants to start a family._

 

So many close calls.

 

She feels stronger, healed, ready.

 

She can’t put life off any longer.

 

The world is a dangerous place; it’s seems so easy to lose your life. Yet she still wants to bring a child into this world, wants to add one good human to the dwindling numbers. She needs to be reminded of the beauty again, so she tugs her coat back on, hits the pavements, the subway, until she’s standing outside a bar she hasn’t stepped foot in in three years - and sucks in a breath. She tries to hold it as she pushes through the stale air, across the sticky floor, straight through the sweaty bodies to the door at the back. She takes the elevator up to the top, enters the corridor, and exits out through the door - and into the cool night.

 

She stands alone on the rooftop, breathing in the beauty around her. Her fingers curl around the railing, the light breeze moves through her hair, and she feels alive again.

 

But it’s complicated now.

 

He thinks he’s in love with her. An admission made while she was bleeding out. But was there truth to it? He’s said nothing since, and she refuses to admit she heard him, and there are so many things wrong with their relationship right now adding another complication to it would be undeniably stupid.

 

She turns at the sound of the door, and their eyes meet across the roof of the building. He stares at her, but in the dark night she can’t read his eyes. Pushing forward, she bridges the distance between them and when she sees his eyes she sees disappointment in them.

 

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” she tells him.

 

“What are you doing here?”

She moves over to the railing and rests her arms on it. Staring out at the city, she says, “I needed this tonight. The view. A reminder of the beauty here.”

 

“Thinking of leaving again?”

 

“No.” She shakes her head. “Just things on my mind.”

 

“Mine too.”

 

“Oh?” She turns to face him, but his eyes are locked on the buildings ahead, not even flickering in her direction.

 

“You remember every second of your shooting,” he says, and the words are hissed out between his clenched teeth.

 

 _Oh_. So he’d been watching the interrogation. There’s nothing she can do now but be honest. No more sinning through silence. “Yes.”

 

“You heard me.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Still want a baby, Beckett?”

 

“That’s what’s on my mind.”

 

“Well now you know what’s on mine.”

 

“Is the offer still on the table?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

 

There’s a flash in his eyes, and she’s sure he’s about to say no. “Yes.”

 

“You love me, and that changes so much.”

 

He lets out a mirthless laugh. “And you don’t return those feelings.”

 

She frowns, caught off-guard by his response. “No, that’s- Castle, I--”

 

“But you see,” he interrupts, “this is where the problem might come in.”

 

She wants to interrupt him, like he did her, but she’s so thrown by his words she just lets him talk.

 

“You’re thinking about creating a life, and I can see it in your eyes, the distance you want to put between us. You’re thinking about clinics, and sterile rooms, about a donation in a cup, and probably the cost, and chance of failure.”

 

She can’t deny any of it. Except the part about distance. “I assumed when you made the offer those were your thoughts too.”

 

He shakes his head. “Never. None of that. Nothing so clinical. We would be creating a life, Kate. No, it would be you, and me.”

 

“Uh, you mean…”

 

He steps closer to her. “It would be intimate.”

 

Her breath catches in her throat.

 

“Maybe dinner first. Maybe not. Maybe planned. Maybe spontaneous. But it won’t happen in some white, sterile clinic. Not like that.”

 

She closes her eyes, sucks in a breath, tries to calm her racing heart. She doesn’t recall agreeing to that three years ago. Then again, she doesn’t recall actually agreeing to anything.

 

He sees her panic, she knows it’s all over her face. “That was what I imagined. That there would be love involved.”

 

“Even back then?” she manages.

 

“Yes.”

 

She understands then. This was never some casual offer; it was never intended to just be a donation. Castle isn’t that kind of guy, but she hadn’t really been aware back then. Back when she thought of him - _a little bit, she admits_ \- as some playboy, who possibly had a few extra kids out there he was potentially not even aware of. Now, she knows him. Understands. He is a father. It was never just a pact between friends, some donation in a clinic that they would never speak of again.

 

No. He had always intended to be around, should she accept his offer.

 

This would have terrified her back then. Now, it makes her heart swell, makes her want it all the more. Him. A family - _with him_.

 

“I--” But she can’t say it. She’s still broken. She loves him, and she can’t say it, and she’s going to lose him.

 

“Think about it,” he says, his voice softer now. “We’ll do it your way, if we must, at the very least find some middle ground, but I feel strongly about this, so I ask that you at least think about it, and about what I said to you that day. Nothing’s changed.”

Somehow, she nods, her throat too thick, too constricted to speak, her eyes brimming with tears. She ducks her head, and walks away.

 

Because silence is easy.

* * *

 

 

She can’t stop thinking about it. She lies in bed, unable to sleep, the thoughts rattling around in her mind, until they plant themselves deep in her brain and refuse to move. Sex. With Castle. With a man who is in love with her. A man she loves in return.

 

And she wants it. All of it.

 

The covers are pushed off, clothes are haphazardly pulled on, and she rushes out blindly into the damp night, the light rain soaking through her layers as she stands hailing a cab. But she doesn’t care.

 

She just needs to go to him.

 

All the complications seem so simple now.


	3. Chapter 3

She knocks on his door, knuckles soft against the hard wood, and waits. She doesn’t hear him stepping up to the door, and she’s about to accept he isn’t home when it opens and he stands before her – barefoot and sad.

“Hi,” she says, her voice soft. “Can I come in?”

He steps back and open the door for her, a silent invite that she accepts. The loft is dark, but a soft glow emanating from his study tells her the muse knocked on his door earlier too. 

They face one another in the dimly-lit room, and she resists the urge to fold her arms across her chest. She doesn’t want to appear defensive but she just doesn’t know what to do with her hands. They rise to her chest, before she brings them down, moves to stuff them in her pockets – but the tight denim won’t allow it. Giving up, she clasps them in front of her stomach, but only ends up feeling awkward. “We should talk.”

“Go ahead.”

“Is the offer still open?”

He blinks. “Of course.”

A short huff of a laugh escapes her lips. “I thought I knew everything I needed to say,” she begins, shaking her head like it might clear the confusion swirling inside it. “But now I’m here, I don’t know where to start.”

“We can start with this,” he says, before dropping his palms to her hips and bringing her body to his. His lips are on hers before she can speak again, before she can ask exactly what it is they’re starting with. Because now, it’s clear. They won’t be talking again for a while. And his actions are probably the right ones; they could talk about it all night and still not figure it out.   
Words have caused them enough problems already.

Her lips part and move with his. He seems so solid, so firm, but his mouth, his hands, his torso pressed to hers, are all surprisingly soft. Her eyes close and she lets herself be taken over by the sensation of being thoroughly kissed by him. She can feel it, on his lips, in the way his fingertips slip under her shirt to dance along her skin, that he’s learning her. He’s doing his own salacious kind of research, discovering how her lips responds to his, what makes her sigh into his mouth, and how just the slightest increase in the pressure of his touch brings her hips jutting forward into his. 

There’s still a sadness in his touch; it darkens this moment between them, casting a gloomy shadow that waits just off to the side. Castle knows at any moment she might flee, and they’ll both be engulfed by an unshakable desolation that might just come between them for good. He thinks he knows, anyway. She won’t leave though. She made that decision before she even arrived tonight. She sighs her pleasure into his mouth and curls her hands at his own hips, pulling him impossibly close. His body may be soft, but one part is undeniably hard and she rubs against his crotch, like the contact might be enough to ease the incessant throb between her legs. But it’s not enough, for either of them, because suddenly he’s pulling away from her, curling his fingers around her wrist, and guiding her into his bedroom.   
They stand before his bed, eyes meeting in the moonlight-lit room, allowing a moment to feel the weight of what they’re about to do. She won’t allow the moment to stretch, and she breaks it with the motion of her hands dropping to the hem of her shirt and tugging it over her head. She lets it fall to the floor, and begins working on her jeans, but he’s faster and tugs the zipper down. Sucking her lower lip between her teeth, she instead unfastens his own jeans, and the two work in tandem to rid each other of their clothing. 

Easing down onto the bed, she reaches for him. With their hands linked, he shuffles between her splayed legs until they are nestled against one another more intimately than she ever imagined for them.

No. That’s a lie. She has most definitely imagined this moment. It just never felt like it could become reality. Until now.

“One thing,” he says in between peppering hot kisses down her neck, her shoulder, back up again. 

She hums out a questioning response.

“Is this… optimal timing? I mean, are you actually likely to get pregnant from this?”

She laughs. “Mood killer.”

“Not that it matters,” he assures her. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed two weeks from now when the test comes back negative.”

Leaning up, she brushes a soft kiss across his parted lips. “It’s not,” she admits. “It’s probably too early in my cycle. But…”

“Practice makes perfect.”

She laughs again. “That’s the plan.”

“Hey, Beckett?” he says, smiling down at her. 

“Yeah, Castle?”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“Oh my God, Beckett, did you just Han Solo me?”

She laughs. And, God, it’s been forever since she’s laughed during sex. Has she ever? Isn’t this how it’s meant to be? When it gets messy, when it gets awkward, when they end up on the floor in a tangle of limbs and sheets, she’s found someone she can laugh about it all with. 

Her heart swells.

“I love you.”

He pauses and gazes down at her in a surprised awe.

“What?” she asks, a mischievous lilt in her voice. “You didn’t expect me to say it so soon?”

“Well, honestly? No,” he admits. “But I’ll take it.” He leans down and captures her mouth with his, silencing them both again. 

His forehead touches hers. His naked body rests between her thighs, his erection brushes her clit, and yet this moment, with his forehead to hers and his warm breath fanning out across her skin is more intimate.  
His lips graze her cheek with a softness that takes her breath away, and continue travelling down her body, following the curve of her neck, between her breasts, the taut skin of her stomach. When he touches his tongue between her legs she almost jolts off the bed. With her eyes closed, she lets out a sigh as he increases the pressure and tastes her. He’s gentle, then firm, and damn him she knows he’s writing some teasing sentence across her clit, but it feels too good to care. She wants to wait, but he slips two fingers inside her, curls them, rubs her g-spot, and she shatters beneath him. 

She’s still throbbing, her body still fluttering from the contractions of the orgasm, when she feels the thick tip of him at her entrance. He pushes in slow, and she’s thankful for the orgasm relaxing her, because he’s big. Bigger than she’s used to. He’s thick and long and holy hell where has he been hiding that? How did she not notice all those times she accidentally stared at his crotch?

With a warm palm he eases one of her legs over his shoulder, and she moves the other a little wider, opening herself up for him, making this easier for both of them. 

He pushes in, to the hilt, sheer concentration tightening his features, and then he stops, opens his eyes, and stares down in wonder at where their bodies are joined.

“What?” she asks.

“Uh… Just that. Well, it’s not often that I’m able to…”

She laughs again. “We make a good team, Castle.”

“Yeah.”

She’s not usually crass, but all she wants to say right now is, Fuck me, Castle. Instead, she stares up at him from beneath half-hooded eyes, and juts her hips up a little.   
He gets the hint, and slowly begins easing in and out of her, keeping a controlled thrust while her body stretches to accommodate him. But she is so wet already, her body so well prepped, that he picks up his pace quickly and moves faster as the friction drives them both towards release. 

He hits her deep, faster and faster, and she clings to the sheet beneath her and meets his thrusts with her hips. When she can’t keep the pace anymore, she angles her hips a little higher and squeezes her inner muscles around him. 

She wants to hear these sounds leaving his lips forever. She wants to hear them every night, first thing in the morning, in the middle of the day when they’re tense and stressed and just need to fuck it out for five minutes. He sighs with pleasure more than she expected. She took him for more of a grunter. But he’s almost a softer version of himself in these intimate moments. 

Her body burns from the pleasure. Her own gasps come quicker now, a little louder, as the tension inside her coils too tight. Every part of her is too tight now. Her heart pounds in her chest, and as she peaks she lets out the breathiest of gasps, before every muscle contracts in a hard, jolting orgasm. 

She drags him over with her, and he releases inside her, sighing out her first name as he comes. 

They don’t move for a moment, her leg still over his shoulder, his hard length still nestled deep inside her. But as the endorphins ease she feels cramp setting in and with regret eases her leg down, his cock sliding out of her as she moves. 

He doesn’t collapse down on top of her, like so many past lovers had a tendency to do. He eases to the side, onto his back, and then brings her body to curl into his. She throws a leg over his hip, rests her cheek on his chest, and wraps an arm across his waist, and melts into him, a happy, sated, boneless mess. 

“That was amazing,” he murmurs into her hair. “I had no idea it would be like that.”

“I believe I told you three years ago.”

He laughs. “Touché.”

“I don’t think I’m pregnant,” she says, and she’s joking when she starts the sentence, but by the next one she’s completely serious, “So I think we need to do that again. In, say, five minutes.”

“How about,” he begins, slipping a hand down her back, to the hot, throbbing slickness between her legs, and thrusting two fingers inside her, “I distract you and pretend like I won’t need closer to ten because I’m not eighteen anymore.”

She gasps out a sigh of pleasure and thrusts against his thigh. “Works for me,” she breathes out while he coaxes orgasm three out of her slowly with a tender touch.


End file.
